


Karma

by Mazarin221b



Series: Comes Back Around [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Barebacking, Clubbing, It's Victor's fault really, M/M, Neither is Victor, PWP, Past Infidelity, Post-breakup, Revenge Sex, Unsafe Sex, Yuuri is not nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 12:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: “I loved you,” he says. “And you broke my heart. You humiliated me in front of our friends and colleagues. We were so good together, Victor.  I just wanted you to remember what you’ve lost.” Yuuri pulls his shirt over his head as Victor scrambles to get his pants on and get control of this conversation."Yuuri, I told you how sorry I am, it was such a mistake, I’ve never seen him again, never talked to him, not touched anyone—“Yuuri holds up a hand. “And you’re going to think of me every time you try to have someone else from now on.”Six months after Yuuri leaves Victor, and Victor wants to lose himself in a club, maybe in a new man, and forget. Yuuri won't let him. Oh, no.





	Karma

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, unchecked. I was just trying to jumpstart my writing with a little PWP for fun. If you see any glaring errors, let me know!

Just a shade past midnight in one of the hottest nightclubs in Rome, and Victor Nikiforov is on the hunt.

The crowd parts as Victor strides by – something in their hindbrain recognizes power when they see it, and it makes the long, torturous path between the door and his VIP seat next to the dancefloor just that much easier to navigate.  It’s been a long season, working with Yura; his attitude and hard-headedness almost more exhausting than the actual skating. But he’s earned this break now that Worlds finished last night and he’s going to take it. An entire month off with no responsibilities, no expectations, no rules.

He drops onto the white leather lounge and leans back to stretch, his black tshirt riding up over his stomach and gathering quite a few admiring glances from the people milling around the dance floor.

“You don’t need to make it that obvious, Victor,” Chris drawls, before he takes a coquettish sip of his drink. “We already know you’re the thirstiest bitch in this club.”

Victor leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Shut up. Just because _some of us_ have a man at home …”

“And who’s fault is that, hmmm?” Chris asks. “You had one, too. But couldn’t just keep it at one, could you?”

Victor swallows. “Yes, I know, I fucked up, I’ve heard this lecture sixteen times in the last six months, god.”

“Kissing is just like fucking to a guy like Yuuri, I’m telling you.”

Victor shakes his head and ignores him by taking a large sip of wine. He _has_ heard this lecture dozens of times; from Chris, from Yura, from Yuuri himself. It was a stupid, drunken mistake and now he’s paying for it. Every time he sees Yuuri with Minami at competitions, every time he hears his calm, quiet voice murmuring in Japanese in the green room.

It’s hell.

He needs to forget. He needs to find someone and fuck Yuuri and his gorgeous face, his perfect body, his sweetness, his love, right out of his system.

“Oh my god, speak of the devil,” Chris says, and gestures to the dance floor.

Victor closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath, because he knows, without even a glance, what he’s going to see.  

He opens his eyes. And yes, there he is. Just to the left of Victor’s sight line is Yuuri Katsuki, grinding on a guy like only he can when he’s six drinks in and the rest of the world has disappeared into a sea of colored lights and pounding bass lines.

Victor is instantly hard in his jeans. Six months apart and watching Yuuri roll his hips while a seductive little smile plays across his lips still rattles Victor’s bones, shakes him to the core and leaves him longing. He looks beautiful in an artfully torn pale blue shirt, hair slicked back and his confidence on full display, and Victor _wants_.

“Damn. It’s been three years and I still can’t get over that ass,” Chris says. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not arguing the point.” Victor slams the rest of his drink back and watches as Yuuri hooks a hand around his partner’s waist, drags them closer together and the man’s hand slips down to cup the ass in question. Yuuri’s got his other hand around the back of the man’s neck and his fluttery shirt is dark with moisture at the dip of his spine.

Victor shivers when he remembers the taste of the sweat that would gather there when Victor would fuck him, riding him hard until Yuuri would sob and scream into the sheets.

Idiot.

He’s such an idiot. He should go over there, show Yuuri what he’s missing. Seduce him. Bring him to his knees and bring him home. Never let him leave again. Spend forever making up for being such an idiot. He’s so convinced of this plan he swipes Christophe’s drink and pounds it down before standing up, determined.

“Oh no,” Chris says, and grabs his wrist. “Ho don’t do it is probably the mildest thing I could say right now.”  

Victor grits his teeth as the man Yuuri is dancing with leans down and nips at his neck. Yuuri giggles and sways even closer, and Victor vaults over the low brass poles separating the VIP area from the rest of the club and is next to them in five quick strides.

Yuuri quirks an eyebrow when Victor appears but says nothing, simply holds Victor’s gaze as he spins around and presses his back to his partner’s front. The man’s hands wrap around Yuuri’s chest and he leans over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Problem, friend?” he asks, his smirk so disgusting and smug Victor wants to punch him.

“No,” Victor says. “I just want to remember what it’s like to dance with Yuuri Katsuki. If that’s okay with Yuuri.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says. “Go back to Chris. He looks like he’s about to have a seizure watching you try to talk to me.”

Victor watches as the man clumsily tries to sway with Yuuri to the music, and then the beat downshifts into a heavier, bass-thumping rhythm that has Victor reaching for Yuuri before he can stop himself.

“Come on, solnyshko,” he purrs. “You know you and I could destroy to this.”

Yuuri smiles, an open-mouthed smile with his tongue barely peeking out where he’s tucked it behind his eyeteeth, and lets Victor pull him close and wrap an arm around his back before dipping him low and swinging him in a wide arc before pulling them back together and fitting their hips together.

“Hey,” Yuuri’s previous partner complains, and tries to take Yuuri’s hand.

“Fuck. Off.” Victor growls. “He’s with me right now.”  The man huffs but backs off when Yuuri gestures to him to go away.

“Just like we used to, okay?” Yuuri whispers, and Victor sinks into memory, the feel of Yuuri’s waist under his fingertips, the smell of his shampoo. The lithe grace with which he and Yuuri sway and grind to the music, the closest thing to sex Victor has had in six months when Yuuri dips low and rolls his body up to slowly grind his ass against Victor’s cock where it’s thick in his jeans.

Victor sucks in a breath and catches Yuuri under the arm before pressing his teeth to the tendon in Yuuri’s neck.

“Careful,” he growls, and takes a taste of the sweat gathered on Yuuri’s hairline. “People might think you like me.”

Yuuri reaches back to wrap his hand around the back of Victor’s head and holds him there. “So? I do like you.”

Victor leads Yuuri in a complex series of steps that leaves them wrapped around each other in the middle of the dance floor, people noticing the way they move and making space for them to execute the more complex moves they’d started playing with after years of dancing and skating together.

“Really?” Victor says, his lips tickling the shell of Yuuri’s ear. “Because everyone else hates me. Even my student.” He’s losing himself in the deliciousness that is dancing with Yuuri, the thing that hooked him all those years ago and dragged him halfway around the world to chase. That indescribable chemistry they had, they still have, if the way Yuuri is melting into his hands is any indication. He can’t believe he forgot it even for a second.

“Yura has a soft spot for romance.” Yuuri hooks his right leg over Victor’s hip and pulls him in. Victor almost chokes when their hips meet and he can feel Yuuri hard in his jeans. “He thought we were going to be together forever.”

“To be fair, so did I.”

“Mmm. Well. Real life happens. Liam happened.”

Victor can feel the alcohol he so recklessly consumed catching up with him, his head feeling slightly fuzzy. He thinks that’s what makes him grab Yuuri by the hand and drag him back toward the private party rooms in the back.  Yuuri follows without protest, his hand hot and damp in Victor’s palm. This is going to be the best or worst idea he’s ever had, and he’s not sure which yet. They skid to a halt at the entrance to a back hallway, roped off and lorded over by a bored looking man in a club tshirt.

“Reservation?” the attendant asks.

“Fuck. No. Um. Any open rooms? Any at all.”

The guy looks them over, takes in Victor’s desperate face and Yuuri’s blushing cheeks. “This isn’t a brothel. No fucking.”

Victor blows his bangs out of his face and digs out his wallet, and hands the man an exorbitant amount of cash. “Any room open is fine.” Jesus Christ, will this guy just give them a key?

The man flips through the stack and puts most of it in his pocket, then hands over a keycard. “Room 8. Don’t leave a mess.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri gasps as Victor pulls him down the hall to the room, unlocks the door and leads them inside. It’s a fairly unassuming room, just a sofa, a couple of chairs, a table and a small bar setup in the corner.

Victor pulls his shirt off over his head before he reaches for Yuuri’s, desperate to see the body that was so intimately familiar for so long. He can’t believe it’s been six months since he’s touched him, held him in his arms, loved him and felt love in return. Yuuri’s soft shirt slips easily over his head and Victor dives forward to press kisses to Yuuri’s perfect collarbones. Yuuri’s arms hold onto Victor’s neck for dear life.

“Shit. Victor. Um. I…oh god. Yeah. Oh, I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Victor whimpers against Yuuri’s skin. If he missed him, why had he left? Why hadn’t he listened to Victor’s apologies, talked things out when he had the chance? “God, Yuuri. Need you. I want you so much.”

“Pants,” Yuuri gasps, and Victor pulls back enough to unbutton his jeans as Yuuri does the same, shimmying out of them and coming back together with a sigh of skin on skin. Victor collapses back on the sofa, pulling Yuuri down to straddle his lap. He hisses when their erections bump and slide against each other, the pull and drag making Victor shiver and buck under Yuuri’s ass.

“Mmm. Same as ever, Nikiforov,” Yuuri says, and wraps a hand around Victor’s cock and strokes him slowly. Victor chokes off a moan as the touch of Yuuri’s hand sends sparks down his spine. Yuuri leans forward and teases Victor’s nipple with his tongue, holding it in his teeth and flicking it until Victor whimpers and writhes, hands gripping Yuuri’s hips hard enough to bruise.

“Tell me you’ve got something with you,” Victor gasps against Yuuri’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he says and leans back to snag his jeans from the floor before fishing a condom and a lube packet out of the pocket. Victor feels a spark of jealousy as he sees it, despite the fact he had finally decided to pick someone up himself.

 “I’ve not been with anyone else since,” Yuuri blurts, looking at the condom in his hands. “This was just in case.”

“Me neither.” Victor contemplates whether his heart can stand to be that intimate with Yuuri again, if he can survive the heart-stopping feeling of fucking him without a barrier.

“I don’t want it,” Yuuri confesses, and shifts until he’s even closer, their chests pressed together and Yuuri looking in Victor’s eyes. “I want to feel you. I want your come in me.”

That’s it, Victor’s done for, every safe-sex lecture he’d ever had flying out of his head for this one chance to make Yuuri his again. “Okay,” he whispers, and slips his fingertips down to spread Yuuri’s cheeks and brush against his hole, and he revels in the way Yuuri shivers under his hands. “If that’s what you want.”

Yuuri nods and bites his lip, and Victor tears open the lube packet and coats his fingers. He remembers that Yuuri likes it quick, the burn of a rough stretch turning him on. Yuuri tilts forward and buries his face in Victors chest, his back rounded and abs firm, as Victor slides his fingers around Yuuri’s hole and then presses in with steady pressure until Yuuri sighs and his breath gusts across Victor’s skin. 

“You’re so good,” Yuuri moans. “I love your hands.”

Victor works in another finger as Yuuri gasps and writhes. “No one else knows this, do they, Yuuri? They don’t know how to fuck you like this. Make you moan like this. Just me.”

Yuuri arches his back and gasps. “Yeah. Just you. Only you. Oh god, fuck me, Victor. Come on. Give it to me.”

Victor pulls his fingers back and gives his cock a quick stroke. Yuuri lifts himself onto his knees and positions himself over Victor’s cock before lowering himself slowly, steadily, until he’s completely seated on Victor’s lap.  Victor holds himself completely still, his body quivering with the tight, coiled heat of him, waiting. Yuuri is completely in charge now, and when finally he rolls his hips in a perfect imitation of what they were doing on the dance floor, Victor’s eyes close and his head drops back against the back of the couch. Yuuri does it again, and again, and distantly Victor realizes he can hear the beat of the music through the walls and is fucking him in time with it. His eyes are half-lidded and deep, something like affection in the tilt of his head and sultry half-smile.

Victor pulls him down to kiss him, the first time their lips have met in half a year, the taste of him familiar and heartbreaking as Victor thrusts up under him, pulls his body hard against him as Yuuri whimpers against his mouth, the taste of his tears a shock against Victor’s tongue.

God, he’s just as moved as Victor is. It’s then that Victor realizes: _this_ is right. This is what he needs, he thinks, Yuuri back in his life. Himself back in Yuuri’s life. He knew it as soon as he saw him, when they danced, and now that he’s buried in Yuuri’s body he’s never going to let him go again.

He feels Yuuri’s body tighten as he nears orgasm, his breath harsh and panting in Victor’s ear. Victor strokes him with a light touch, just as he likes, and in four quick thrusts Yuuri comes all over Victor’s hand and stomach, his body trembling and shaking, a litany of “Oh,” chanted on the crest of a moan.

“Almost there, baby,” Victor groans. “You’re so beautiful when you come. So gorgeous. Just watching you makes me come.” Victor wraps his hands around Yuuri’s back and pulls him close, and when Yuuri leans down and licks a hot trail over the shell of Victor’s ear his body catches fire and he shivers and comes, buried deep in Yuuri’s body.

Yuuri finally collapses against Victor’s chest, Victor still inside him. He’s barely able to move, doesn’t want to move. Wants to stay here forever, if he can.

“God, that was good,” Yuuri murmurs. “You’re an asshole, but you’re a great lay.”

Victor lifts his head up, heart hammering. “What?”

Yuuri carefully lifts himself off of Victor’s spent cock, come dribbling down his legs as he does so. Victor stares as Yuuri pulls on his briefs and his jeans, Victor’s come leaving streaks up his legs as he does. He leans forward and gives Victor a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I loved you,” he says. “And you broke my heart. You humiliated me in front of our friends and colleagues. We were so good together, Victor.  I just wanted you to remember what you’ve lost.” Yuuri pulls his shirt over his head as Victor scrambles to get his pants on and get control of this conversation.

“Yuuri, I told you how sorry I am, it was such a mistake, I’ve never seen him again, never talked to him, not touched anyone—“

Yuuri holds up a hand. “And you’re going to think of me every time you try to have someone else from now on.”

“That’s what this was about? And what about you?” Victor counters. “I know you, Yuuri Katsuki. I know what you need. I know how to love you. I miss you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes sparkle with tears. “You should have thought of that before kissing Liam in front of everyone like you did. No one will make you feel like I do. No one will touch you like I can. No one will know you like me. Goodbye, Victor Nikiforov.”

“Wait,” Victor says, a terrible, horrible idea forming in his mind. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Yuuri just smirks through his tears. “What do you think? Thanks for the fuck, Victor,” he says, and  spins on his heel and strides out of the door, his body betraying not a hint that he’d just been fucked, that he has Victor’s come smeared on the inside of his thighs. That he kissed Victor like coming home, not goodbye.

Victor touches his lips with fingers smeared with come and lube, and knows that this isn’t the last time. He won’t let it be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes hearing a song I've heard dozens of times before will kickstart an entire plot in my head. That was the case with this, today.  
> [Attention, Charlie Puth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gBeLN2Jkng)


End file.
